


Not Asking You

by literaryspell



Series: Pretty Baby Universe [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: BDSM, Crossdressing, D/s, Dirty Talk, Exhibitionism, M/M, Rough Sex, minor feminisation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-01
Updated: 2012-01-01
Packaged: 2017-11-03 02:24:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/376054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/literaryspell/pseuds/literaryspell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco is Harry's—but that doesn’t make them the only people in the world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Asking You

**Author's Note:**

> Huge thanks to [](http://songquake.livejournal.com/profile)[**songquake**](http://songquake.livejournal.com/) and[](http://secretsalex.livejournal.com/profile)[ **secretsalex**](http://secretsalex.livejournal.com/) for the VERY last minute beta work, and [](http://lady-of-clunn.livejournal.com/profile)[**lady_of_clunn**](http://lady-of-clunn.livejournal.com/) for the beta and brit-pick. You guys kill me with your generosity and masochism. ;) This is a continuation of my fics [Pretty Baby](http://literaryspell.livejournal.com/45080.html) and [Give Me Your Everything](http://literaryspell.livejournal.com/83360.html), but you absolutely don't need to have read them to enjoy this. It stands alone. I hope you enjoy it!

  
"Say the safeword, Draco." Harry sat in an armchair in their bedroom. He was dressed but his jeans were unbuttoned, his pants pulled beneath his balls so his cock was on display. He stroked it casually as he watched Draco get dressed.

There was nothing in the world like watching Draco dress.

"Harry, I know the bloody safeword." Despite his acerbic tone, there was heat in his cheeks as he looked anywhere but at Harry. His fingers were precise and careful as he slid on his silk stockings, the nude material blending seamlessly with his soft white skin.

Harry tried to keep from rolling his eyes. He understood why Draco was hesitant to say the safeword. Draco had never said as much, but Harry knew it was because he saw it as a failure—even just saying it to assure Harry he remembered. And not just a failure in submission, but as a failure in communication, in trust. Of course Harry knew that it was no such thing. Should Draco ever actually need the safeword, it would be no one's fault. They could discuss every scene in aching detail but they couldn't know every nuance of emotion that would occur until it actually happened.

Draco had a lot of ideas about being a sub, some ideas that made Harry's life rather difficult.

"I'm not asking you." Harry could hear the tension in his own voice. He knew Draco knew the safeword. It was ingrained on both their minds and would always be. There was more to it than just being sure Draco remembered. Harry _loved_ hearing Draco say the word. Maybe it was wrong, maybe it made him a bad Dom—he didn’t know. All he knew was when that word passed Draco's lips, especially the _way_ he said it, all anxious like it was against his will, something clicked inside Harry. He never would, not on purpose, but a part of him wanted to push Draco past breaking.

Draco was quiet as he clipped the stockings to his matching garter. The silence didn’t mean refusal; he was thinking. Harry could always tell when Draco was weighing disobedience with acquiescence. Would Harry punish him, he would wonder. Since they were on their way to dinner with Pansy, her husband, and Blaise, a punishment might be really embarrassing. They both knew Harry loved to humiliate Draco.

"Ivory."

As expected, a thrill rushed through Harry at the word. He gripped his cock harder. "Good girl," Harry groaned. Draco tossed him a sideways look, a little smirk on his face. He stood up and Harry noticed his cock was stretching his skin-tone knickers obscenely. The only item of clothing missing was the beige whalebone corset, something Draco would need to ask for help with.

Draco turned away from Harry, and Harry knew he was adjusting his cock. He was adorable when he thought he was hiding things. Draco picked up the corset and approached Harry. "I can't put it on myself," he said.

Harry remained sitting. "I know that."

"So, if you want me to wear it, you'll need to help me."

Harry couldn’t tell if Draco was being snotty on purpose to get tossed around a bit or if he genuinely thought that was a polite way of asking.

"Get on your fucking knees, Draco," Harry said. He wasn’t going to put up with smart-ass masochism, not tonight. Tonight he had plans and he needed Draco compliant.

Like water, Draco slid to his knees. At least there hadn't been hesitation there, Harry mused. He crooked his finger once and Draco approached, careful on his knees so the stockings wouldn’t pull, and settled between Harry's spread legs.

"Put the corset down." He waited until Draco did so. "You're going to suck my cock. Actually, no. I'm going to shove my cock down your throat. You're going to take it. You're going to swallow it and thank me for it. Then you're going to beg me to help you finish getting dressed. Do you understand?"

Draco's lips were parted, his chest pressing out quick, short exhalations. "Yes," he breathed.

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, I understand."

" _Say it,_ you little slag."

"I understand that you're going to shove your cock down my throat. I'll swallow your come and thank you. Then ask for help with the corset." Draco met Harry's eyes for an instant before they darted down to his cock. He didn’t make a move; he knew he needed express permission first.

Harry was impressed with the clarity, but still made him wait a long moment before nodding. Even though Draco hadn't been watching his face, he must have seen the movement, because he immediately descended on Harry's cock. Draco's mouth worked to spread wetness over him, as low as he could go. Harry let him be in control of the blowjob for a few minutes before resting a heavy hand on the back of Draco's neck. At once Draco ceased all movement, Harry's prick still inside his mouth.

It wasn’t the best position for deepthroating. If he managed to get in, his cock would be angled downward, which could be uncomfortable. None of that mattered, though. He'd put up with the discomfort just to hear the way Draco's voice would rasp afterward.

Pressing down on Draco's neck, Harry brought him as far down on his cock as Draco could go naturally. "I'm going in," Harry warned him. "Relax." Even the sound of Draco's heavy breathing through his nose was getting Harry off. Harry could feel the back of Draco's throat moving, trying to open for the invasion, but there wasn’t much he could do to help Harry except not panic. That was what Harry loved about deepthroating. It was totally out of Draco's control, and Draco trusted him enough not to deprive him of air for too long. He could, if he wanted to, choke Draco out with his dick. They both knew it. "Come on, baby, you can take it," Harry said, trying to coax Draco into opening up.

Harry thrust his hips as minutely as he could, just a tiny bit of pressure. He could feel Draco trying to swallow around him, something that had helped him in the past. Then he felt it, an opening. He took advantage and moved in, grunting at the overwhelming tightness. Draco's hands grabbed at Harry's thighs, tight but not painful. Harry pulled Draco's head down, shoving his dick down Draco's spasming throat. He held it there, neither of them moving except to breathe.

Draco's hands clenched, his signal that he wanted Harry out. Harry made him wait just a few more seconds before pulling out. "Holy fuck, Draco," Harry groaned. He let Draco suck his dick as he recovered his breath. Then he put his hand back on Draco's neck and surged up, finding his way in immediately. Harry couldn’t hear the noise Draco was trying to make; he could feel it on his cock. "Don't make a sound, bitch. Just take it."

He was close. He held off his orgasm long enough to repeat the actions a few more times, holding Draco down longer every time. He usually didn’t fuck Draco's throat for so long, and they both knew Draco'd be sore at dinner. He held Draco down for the longest time yet, bypassing two clenches of Draco's hands and finally letting up when Draco slapped his thigh.

"Suck it, Draco, don't stop," Harry ground out, panting. Draco was dragging in deep breaths but he did as he was told, his actions almost frenzied as he worked to make Harry come. Draco looked up with Harry still in his mouth, his pale grey eyes tearing from the brutal treatment. Harry's head fell back—it was too much. He came hard, only just holding himself back from thrusting back into Draco's warm, tight throat.

He watched as Draco swallowed, wincing not at the taste, Harry knew, but at the tenderness in his throat. Harry felt a tinge of guilt; there was no way Draco would be enjoying dinner now.

Draco took several minutes to recover. There was struggle in his eyes, though minor. He didn’t want to beg. Draco was proud. He didn’t always love everything Harry did to him. And he _hated_ begging.

Finally, though… "Har—" Draco's voice cracked. He cleared his throat. "Harry, will you please help me put on my corset?"

Harry leaned down and kissed Draco's puffy lips. "Of course, baby."

*

"Draco, sweetie, are you catching a cold?" Pansy looked concerned upon hearing Draco's rather rough voice. She tossed a glare at Harry, obviously thinking—correctly, unbeknownst to her—that it was somehow Harry's doing. "What, do you make him sleep outside or something?"

Harry rolled his eyes. Pansy was somewhat informed as to Draco's proclivities, but Harry doubted she had the whole story. She didn’t seem to understand the difference between domination and abuse and Harry never cared enough about her opinion to try to explain. She could be quite a lot to take at times, but the trade-off meant Draco spent time with Ron and Hermione, so Harry dealt with it. "Ask Draco why his throat's sore. And it's not because I don’t take care of him."

"Harry," Draco snapped. Then he closed his eyes, looking for all the world like he wished he could take back his word.

"What?" Blaise asked, looking from Harry to Draco and back. "Is everything okay, Draco?"

"Of course it is." Draco sighed and touched Harry's fingers with his. Harry took it as the apology it was obviously meant as and decided to let it go. Draco was just tense, and since Harry hadn't let him come after the blowjob, he was even more on edge.

They handed their coats to the young man at the entrance of the club and waited for their tickets. When Draco reached for his, Harry intercepted and pocketed both of them. Draco threw him a look, something Harry knew he'd be doing a lot that night.

The club wasn’t exactly high society, to everyone's chagrin but Harry's, but he hated that upper class bullshit and only put up with it half the time. For Draco. He really did put up with a lot for Draco. A few weeks previous they'd met at a restaurant with four forks. Draco had really got it that night.

"Antony sends his regrets," Pansy said, stomping her way in front to lead them to the bar. "He had to work late."

Blaise snorted, a sound that was lost in the heavy thud of the music, and Draco rolled his eyes. Pansy just held up a hand and shook her head. Everyone knew Pansy's husband was unfaithful but it seemed as long as it wasn’t said aloud, it wasn’t true. To Harry's utter surprise, Pansy did not return the favour—she was, for whatever reason, true to her husband.

"Pansy…" Draco began, having to raise his voice and struggling. It bothered him that their marriage was unhappy. Harry loved that he wanted everyone to be as happy as they were. It was a soft side of Draco that he never thought he'd witness, and the best was that Draco didn’t even recognise it as such.

"Draco, don't. I love him." They fell silent as Pansy ordered a round—two extra dry martinis, one wet, and a mead for Harry. At least she no longer insisted he venture out and try new drinks. Progress.

"So, Potter, how's work?" Blaise asked. They settled at the bar to wait for their orders, Draco perching elegantly, as only he could do, on a bar stool. Harry stood behind him, a possessive hand on his side. He could feel the corset through Draco's dress shirt, a secret just for him.

"Well, it's work." Harry shrugged. "Keeps Draco in designer clothes."

Draco laughed but no one else did. Harry sighed. Of course Draco worked and paid his own way, not to mention his family money. For the nth time, Harry felt woefully out of place among Draco's friends. Draco must have sensed it because again he touched his fingers to Harry's, pressing them into his ribs. They shared a short look, Draco arching his neck up and back, and Harry relaxed.

"How's the Muggle business world?" Draco asked Blaise.

"Well enough. I put up with them because it's an easy way to make money. I have a feeling I'm being monitored, though. It won't be long before I have to find a new position again." Blaise's clever scheme of insider trading as an investment banker came crumbling down every few months, but with a lifetime supply of Polyjuice, courtesy of Draco, it never seemed to catch up to him.

The conversation continued around him, but Harry only really tuned in whenever Draco spoke, and he got distracted from his words by the scratchy quality of his voice. It threw him back to hours before, again and again. Draco picked up on his mood and carried the discussion. Ever since the time he'd dressed Draco in women's robes and taken him for dinner with Ron and Hermione, an urge that refused to be quelled had started up inside Harry.

He needed to take Draco in public. To _hurt_ Draco in public. To make sure everyone saw that Draco belonged to him, and that Draco loved it that way. He wanted to bend Draco over the bar, hike up his exorbitantly priced robes, and shove a dildo inside him, one so thick and so long that Draco would cry and beg—either to have it removed or shoved deeper; Harry would take it either way.

He wanted Draco on his knees, a centimetre from vomiting on Harry's dick because it was so deep down his throat. He wanted Draco crawling on his hands and knees behind Harry, cock hard and dripping, waiting for any release Harry would deign to give him. He wanted Draco _owned,_ for everyone to see.

More than all that, though, Harry needed people to see that it was what _Draco_ wanted too.

"Let's dance," Harry said, interrupting Pansy's desperate attempt at showing her husband's nonexistent good side by flashing that week's jewellery.

Draco stood, a look on his face so surprised it had Harry chuckling. Harry never danced; it was an ongoing battle between them. Draco was the one who danced, he'd insist. Slow, grinding, slutty-and-desperate dances meant to entice Harry. Harry watched, but Draco danced.

Not tonight. Tonight Harry would dance because he'd need Draco to see all the things he did for him. He'd need to remember that when Harry was fucking him.

It was a wizarding club, notoriously more accepting of both homosexuality and kink—not that Harry would care if it weren’t but it meant Draco would be more open. He let Draco lead the way, picking a spot on the dance floor that Harry knew meant the largest amount of people could see him. Draco did love the spotlight.

Harry grabbed Draco's hip and spun him, almost taking Draco off balance. To soothe the inevitable ruffled feathers, Harry pulled Draco close, snaking his arms around Draco's slim body. Draco hesitated a moment, probably considering whether he should whinge at Harry, but decided against it and put his hands on Harry's shoulders, winding one around to his back, bringing them closer.

"Having fun, baby?"

Draco nodded, offering a small smile. "Just… Pansy."

Harry nodded. He hated feeling helpless. Even though he didn’t like Pansy, he wished he could fix it all so Draco could stop worrying.

Draco picked up the beat of the music and started moving, Harry about a half-beat behind without being aware of that fact. Draco was an effortless dancer but Harry could only hope to keep up. He knew Draco was in a playful mood when he moved in closer still and pressed their crotches together. To Harry's surprise and pleasure, Draco was half-hard.

"Still feeling needy from earlier?" Harry teased. Draco hated it when he didn’t get to come, but Draco was never fully aware of how desperate it made him.

"You know I am." Draco looked put out, but Harry was sure it was a ruse. He knew Harry would take care of him.

"Want me to make you feel better?"

Draco missed a beat, looking at Harry with wide eyes. "What, here? Harry…"

Just that moment of hesitation, that little spark of fear in Draco's face, the jerk of his cock pressed against Harry's hip, it was enough.

"Go stand against that wall," Harry indicated the wall at the back of the club, opposite the bar where Pansy and Blaise were pretending not to see them. "And close your eyes."

"Harry, not here." Draco wasn’t denying him, he wasn’t refusing. He was letting Harry know he wasn’t entirely comfortable.

But Harry knew remembered the safeword, and he didn’t say it.

"Go."

A long moment stretched, the song ending and seamlessly spinning into the next. Then Draco turned away and strode to the far wall. When he turned to lean against it, his eyes were already closed. _Good girl_ , Harry thought, knowing if he'd said it aloud Draco would flush and glare.

Harry watched him for a minute, and watched the people around him to make sure no one was even thinking of approaching. Then, with one eye on him all the while, Harry went up to the bar. He nodded at Pansy, who watched him with narrowed eyes, but ordered at a different section so he wouldn’t have to talk to them. He ordered a beer and drank it slowly, his eyes never leaving Draco. A few people recognised him but he got rid of them with ease, acting polite but distant, the way Draco had taught him over the years.

Every few moments, Draco would twitch, or jerk his head and look like he was listening for Harry. It was cruel, for both of them, to leave Draco like that. Harry finished his drink and walked around the dance floor, approaching Draco's left side.

Though Harry said nothing and did not give away his presence, when he got close enough, Draco seemed to relax. Harry's hand shot out and he grabbed Draco's groin; his cock was swollen but not fully hard.

"Miss me, baby?"

Draco winced at the solid impact to his bits but still nodded. Harry moved before Draco, close enough that he was mostly blocking Draco from sight, his own back to the crowded dance floor.

"Touch my cock," Harry instructed. He put his free hand on Draco's neck, thumbing the line of his jaw. He knew it was coming, that moment he loved so much. Draco didn’t move but Harry knew it didn’t mean he _wouldn’t_. Harry could practically narrate Draco's train of thought at that moment. The main question was, of course, which would be less disagreeable: getting caught fondling Harry in a public place, or Harry getting upset with him for not obeying.

Beyond that, there were more concerns, no less valid. How far would Harry take it? Would Harry make it good for Draco as well or was this mostly for Harry—in which case Draco would likely think it wasn’t worth the risk. What would Pansy and Blaise think—would their opinion of Draco change?

Even with his eyes closed, Draco's face spoke volumes. Harry had to look beyond Draco's reliably expressive eyes to his other features. The quirk of his left cheek, the tightness of his lips, the tiny crinkle between his blond eyebrows. Everything about Draco was stiff at that moment—including the cock currently swelling in Harry's hand.

Then Harry's patience paid off, as it always promised to do. Draco relaxed, tension being replaced by desire. As if he'd been holding back arousal by sheer force of will only to release it, Draco's cock throbbed and filled to capacity, straining the confines of his trousers. Draco reached out, blind, for Harry's denim buttons, fumbling a little but recovering, long fingers exploring to land upon the solid outline of Harry's prick.

"Like that?" Draco said, a smirk on his lips before he could hide it. He held his hand steady, a fluttering touch that was in no way satisfying.

"Rub it."

Draco did, caressing the length of it, circling around the head and back up the shaft, even cupping Harry's balls through the now-snug fabric.

"Good," Harry said, biting his lip at the sensation. He returned the favour by stroking Draco's cock. It occurred to him that he could probably, without too much fanfare, get the both of them off right there, with nothing more than groping. "You want to get fucked?"

Draco nodded before Harry even finished the question.

"Turn around." He wouldn’t fuck Draco there, not where everyone could see. He wasn't ready for that; sometimes he felt Draco was only just barely his, and he couldn’t share that yet. A part of him—not a small part, either—wished he could. And when Draco began to turn, Harry knew he wouldn’t be stopped. He could just drop Draco's trousers, lube him up—or not—and shove in. Draco would let him. Would _want_ him to. Later, though, Draco would regret it. He'd regret his friends seeing him like that, needy and out of control. It was Harry's job to keep that control. He was the Dom. When Draco gave himself to Harry, it was up to him to make sure Draco was happy, not just at that moment but always.

With a sigh he made sure Draco couldn’t hear, Harry stopped him from facing the wall. "In the loo."

There was relief on Draco's features, reassuring Harry that he made the right choice. One day, though…

"Keep your eyes closed," Harry instructed. He put his arm around Draco's shoulders, knowing Draco trusted him. Draco turned a little toward Harry but let Harry lead.

If it meant Harry had to bump into more than one club-goer to keep Draco from being in contact with any, it was more than worth it. He glanced over at the bar where Pansy was leaning in to talk to Blaise, but only Blaise was looking at them. Harry nodded at him before ushering Draco along into the men's loo, a good-sized room that was mostly clean with a wall of narrow stalls. Harry guided Draco to the second-to-last one, wanting Draco to hear flushing toilets on either side. There were two men at the urinals—neither did more than glance at Harry and Draco—and one stall door that was closed.

Harry threw up a wordless silencing spell. He wanted Draco thinking every word, every grunt, would be overheard, without actually having it so. They could still clearly hear the sounds outside the stall. The person in the occupied stall flushed and Harry hoped no malodours would ruin their tryst.

"Open your eyes," he said, keeping his voice low so Draco wouldn’t suspect the spell.

Draco did, blinking a few times. He looked around, grimacing. "Harry, are you serious? This is dis—"

Harry didn’t let him finish; he reached out and grabbed Draco's hair, yanking him down mercilessly. Draco resisted for a moment, probably at the thought of his designer trousers coming into contact with the questionable floor. Harry just pulled harder until a small noise escaped Draco and he fell to his knees with a scowl.

"Are you complaining, you slut? Are you really in a position to be talking about _disgusting_?" Harry released his hair and slapped Draco's cheek, not hard at all but more than enough to sting Draco's pride. "You're the whore on his knees in a loo about to worship his boyfriend's dick." He waited; Draco tried only for a moment to outwait him.

Then Draco leaned forward and rubbed his cheek against Harry's crotch.

"That's better, baby. Kiss it and tell it you love it."

Harry watched, blood pounding, as Draco placed a vulgar kiss on Harry's jeans. "I love you," he whispered to Harry's hardness.

"It loves you, too." Harry grabbed Draco by the neck and slammed him forward against his groin, jerking his hips against Draco's face. He let Draco go, satisfied to see Draco's cheeks red—from the roughness or embarrassment, Harry neither knew nor cared.

Harry opened the buttons on his jeans, freeing himself from the uncomfortable constraints. He groaned in relief when his cock met the air, chuckling a little at Draco's suddenly hungry look. He sat on the toilet and stroked his cock slowly, studying Draco, who didn’t seem to know he was being watched. His eyes followed Harry's hand before glancing up to meet Harry's in question.

"Sit on it."

Again Draco paused and Harry had had enough. Draco should know better than that; he should trust Harry and follow demands as they were issued. Whenever something took the time to pass through Draco's mental barriers, the chances of him obeying—and therefore enjoying himself—became smaller.

Harry grabbed Draco's shirt collar and yanked Draco up. He was manhandling Draco more than usual but the location had served to heighten Draco's resistance.

"Draco, I'm not fucking asking you. Listen to me carefully." Harry paused; Draco looked both expectant and nervous. "Do as I tell you, when I tell you, or go back out there with your friends. I won't be upset with you and you won't be punished. But if you want to be here, with me, fucking _do as I say_."

"All right, Harry. I want to be here with you." As he spoke, Draco was unbuckling his belt and lowering his trousers, revealing his stockings, garter, and the obscenely stuffed knickers.

Harry relaxed. The last thing he wanted was for Draco to leave, and he'd feared he might, but he knew Draco would be much more malleable from then on.

With a spell they'd mastered years before, Harry slicked his cock and waited for Draco to get into position.

"Facing you, or… away?" Draco asked. His dick was long and deep red, his balls drawn tight.

"Facing me," Harry clarified. The good thing about the position, besides getting to see Draco's facial expression while he fucked himself on Harry's prick, was that it would be difficult for either of them to come. It was too much work for Draco, rising and lowering himself, and for Harry there wasn’t enough power. It would happen eventually, but at least Harry didn’t have to worry about finishing early, which, with the way he felt at that moment, was a blessing.

Draco had to free one leg from his trousers and knickers to straddle Harry, and if he knew how awkward he looked he would never have gone for it. Harry loved it, though. He braced Draco's thighs, holding him and helping him guide himself down. Draco took Harry's cock in hand and steadied it. They both groaned when Draco's hole came into contact with Harry, and Harry interrupted Draco's actions to bring his face down for a kiss.

Then he jerked his hips up, the head of his cock breeching Draco's tightness, the sensation both a relief and a torture. Draco lowered himself slowly, but Harry said, "Faster, I need it in you now," and Draco slid down the rest of the way, settling on Harry's lap.

"Fuck, Harry." Draco put his arms around Harry's neck, their torsos pressed together. Harry could feel the absurd heat of Draco's cock against his stomach even though his shirt.

"Come on, baby, get to work," Harry chided, slapping Draco's arse a couple times to get him moving. He remained still as Draco lifted himself up and dropped, again and again, onto Harry. His arse was hot and sickeningly tight, a mess of feeling that had Harry reconsidering the position after all.

"Faster." Harry unwound Draco's arms from his neck. "Lean back. Let me look at you."

Draco clenched his jaw and put his hands on Harry's knees, arching back and grinding down on Harry instead on falling. Draco couldn’t hide his face in Harry's neck any longer—it was all there for Harry to see. The tight cords in his neck, the dewy sweat on his collarbones, the redness of his cheeks and the lost look in his eyes—it was all there for Harry's greedy consumption.

"Don't slow down," Harry warned when it seemed like Draco might. He was twisting in a circular motion, lifting when he could but mostly moving his hips and keeping Harry deep inside him. Harry's hand found its way beneath Draco's shirt, searching out a nipple and pinching it, twisting it almost viciously when Draco winced.

"Harry, Harry, stop," Draco rushed out, fingers digging into Harry's knees.

Harry showed mercy and moved his hand to Draco's cock, squeezing it and watching the head turn purple with blood. He released it and flicked it hard, feeling triumphant when Draco stopped his gyrating and jerked forward.

"Did that hurt?" Harry teased. He thrust his hips up, fucking Draco as much as he could with his limited range of movement. "Fuck this," he muttered to himself. He put an arm around Draco's lower back and stood up, unconcerned at the way Draco stumbled and fought for footing. Harry's cock fell out of Draco from the movement, causing Draco to hiss.

"Oh, shut up," Harry said, rolling his eyes. Draco glared but Harry only saw it for a second before he spun Draco around and slammed him against the stall wall. Draco's hands went up to brace himself, and he looked disturbed to be coming into contact with the wall. He arched his back so his dick wouldn’t touch it, which was perfect for Harry, who stepped behind him and sank his cock in one unrelenting thrust.

"Draco?"

Harry and Draco both froze as one of the many sounds beyond their walls actually got through to them. Pansy sounded uncomfortable but determined, and Harry sighed.

"What do you want, Pansy?" Draco said, his voice resigned.

"Are you in here, Draco?" Pansy repeated, making Harry remember the silencing spell. He took it down, unsure if Draco even noticed.

"We're here," Harry confirmed. He rested his head on Draco's shoulder, hating the tension there. He reached around Draco and found his cock, manipulating it back to hardness despite Draco's headshake.

Pansy exhaled loudly. "Well, it would have been nice to know you were going to abduct Draco like this. I hope you're using a protection spell." She paused. "Against the germs, too."

Maybe it was because he didn’t like the tone of her voice, or just because it was _enough already_ , or most likely because Harry just wanted to fuck his boyfriend 'til they were raw without worrying about anything at all, but Harry snapped. "I didn’t fucking abduct him, Pansy. It's not like Draco doesn’t have a choice in this."

"Well, with the way you treat him, that's how it seems to me!"

"Harry," Draco whispered. His head was resting against the wall, a sign of how tired he had to be of their animosity. "Please."

"You know what she's thinking," Harry said, annoyed. "That you don't really want this." To keep his erection and to show Draco exactly what he meant, Harry thrust in a few times, shallow and slow.

"Of course he doesn’t," Pansy snapped. "He's afraid of you."

"Pansy!" Draco's head shot up. "That's not even remotely true." There was steel in his voice, making Harry proud.

There was a long pause before Pansy said, "Then _why_ , Draco?"

Harry kissed the nape of Draco's neck. "Yeah, Draco. Why?" He wasn’t enjoying anything about the discussion, but he wasn’t going to stop a public confession of why Draco needed Harry. It was something unspoken, something assumed.

"I would explain it but I just don't think you'd understand. I don’t think you want to."

Harry shut his eyes against the pain in Draco's voice. "Just go, Pansy."

"Draco, could you just try to explain?" Her voice was lower, softer now, and Harry considered that she might actually want to know, that she wasn’t causing trouble because she didn’t like Harry—though certainly there was that, too—but because she didn’t understand.

"Later, please?" Draco said. He searched out Harry's hand and twined their fingers together.

Another long pause. There was the sound of the door opening and closing.

"Oh, mate, I don’t fucking think so!" Pansy shrieked. "You can wait a minute, you pig."

Draco shook with silent laughter and Harry chuckled aloud.

"Okay, I'm going." Pansy sniffed. "You're happy, though, right?" Her voice was farther now.

"I love him, Pansy."

"Okay."

The door opened and closed. There was the sound of the man who'd walked in pissing, and then he left as well. Harry pulled out of Draco and turned him around.

"Are you all right?" he asked, smoothing a thumb over Draco's cheek.

"Yeah. She just makes it so hard sometimes. But it did sound like maybe she'd listen this time."

"I love you, too, you know."

Draco laughed. "I know, you idiot. You loved me _way_ before I loved you."

Harry rolled his eyes and smacked Draco's thigh but he didn’t bother denying it.

"Are you going to fuck me or what?" Draco stroked his miraculously erect prick, but Harry's had flagged.

"I'll finish you," Harry said. He knelt down, much less perturbed by the grimy floor than Draco had been.

"You don’t have to," Draco said quietly. His hand ran through Harry's hair.

"I better not have to tell you to shut up again," Harry warned, nipping Draco's bony hip.

"Harry, just—"

"Draco, another word and I'll bind you bent over the toilet and take payment from every guy who wants to dick you."

Draco shook his head at Harry but was silent through the quick blowjob, only making a small noise when he came. Harry stood, bending to spit Draco's come into the toilet.

"Want to get back out there?" Harry asked. He kneeled once more to fix Draco's knickers and trousers, holding them so Draco could put his leg back through. He lifted them up, adjusting everything, even buckling the belt. He then tucked Draco's shirt back in, making sure he was as presentable as he liked to be.

"No," Draco said. His grey eyes were still slightly troubled, but there was a lighter glint to them now. "I want to go home, put on the red lingerie you bought me, and have you fuck me until we can't move. Then I want you to lick and suck your come from me…" Draco paused, flushing redder than he had even at Pansy's appearance. "And then kiss me harder and longer than you ever have."

Harry held his breath, wanting to dishevel Draco yet again. But he only nodded and reminded himself to breathe.

It was the first time Draco had even been so specific about his desires. He usually made requests along the way but never like that.

Something had shifted that night. Harry hated to think he might have Pansy to thank.

_I love you_ , Harry said in his head, because Draco's own rule was that more than once a day was just ridiculous and even that was pushing it.

_And you love me._

 

 

 

The end.


End file.
